


What's Mine Is Yours

by reddhede



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Almost Dying, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Family Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Pack Dynamics, Soul Bond, Stiles Has a Sister, why can't they just communicate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2019-10-27 17:52:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17771468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reddhede/pseuds/reddhede
Summary: True soulmates are rare for werewolves, and when Derek Hale's arrives in Beacon Hills - in the form of Stiles' estranged sister - more than one life will be changed forever.





	1. Meet Cute

**Author's Note:**

> Started this story forever ago, but I've been missing Teen Wolf lately and thought other people might be too. Who knows, maybe I'll even find the motivation to finish it! :)

As a general rule, Stiles hated birthdays.  They were loud, and crowded, and everyone was always looking at you, expecting you to be happy or excited or grateful the whole damn time.  Every year he’d insisted that he wanted none of it; though he never said so out loud, they merely served as reminders of all the people in his life that would never celebrate another.  This one, he discovered, would be particularly brutal since his absentee sister decided to breeze into town and surprise him. 

With his dad practically dragging him through the entrance of his favorite Italian restaurant, Stiles braced himself to endure the most socially exhausting hours of his entire year.

“Surprise!” echoed a chorus of party guests when he emerged.

“Oh my god, you guys totally had me!”  Though the sheriff was behind him, he could practically hear the eye roll through Stiles’ words and gave his son a warning nudge with his elbow.

Eleanor Stilinski was in the back of the room when her brother came in; she noted the pained expression on his face as countless friends and neighbors smothered him with handshakes and well wishes, though his characteristic sideways smile and innate extroversion masked the majority of his discomfort.

She remained on the outskirts of the crowd, well aware of her brother’s resentment toward her; their mother had gotten sick when she was just 14 years old, with Stiles only half as much.  She had left home shortly thereafter; Stiles didn’t know the reason, and really he didn’t care, but he never forgave her for abandoning their family when they needed each other the most.

While Ellie thought she was respecting his feelings by keeping her distance, in reality Stiles was jealous of her ability to remain anonymous and disengaged, which only agitated him further.  It wasn’t until hours later, once most of the guests had gone home, that she walked up to the brother she’d barely seen for the better part of a decade.

She reached her hands out in the beginning of an awkward hug, but Stiles slunk back and folded his arms across his chest.  It had been years since she’d even laid eyes on her younger brother, back when he still had braces, a bowl cut, and had to look up at her.  The person Ellie saw in front of her now was a _man_ – a full head taller, his strong and lean body had finally caught up with his oversized skull, and someone had obviously taught him the proper use of hair products.  Settling for an affectionate pat on the shoulder, she said softly, “You got big.” 

“Yeah, well, it didn’t happen overnight.”  He could not entirely mask the bitterness in his voice, and the inherent accusation in his words stung.  At least she didn’t wish him a happy birthday; she knew it wasn’t.  “Shouldn’t you be getting back to Chicago, or Tallahassee, or Portland, or wherever the hell you’ve been?”  This comment – a clear dismissal – earned him a firm slap to the back of his head and a stern look from his father.  “Ow!  What?  You can’t hit me on my birthday,” he muttered, massaging the newly tender spot on his scalp.

“Actually,” Ellie began, staring at the floor and tracing the patterns in the rug with the toe of her shoe, “I was kind of thinking I’d stick around here for a while?”  She was most definitely staying – in fact, she had already moved into a townhouse and landed a long-term substitute teaching job – but the wariness in her brother’s eyes made it come out more like a question.

Stiles was calling it; this was officially the worst birthday of his life.  Alright, second worst, but still pretty damn depressing.  He ignored the warning glare their father was giving him as years of pent up frustration bubbled to the surface.  “Why on earth would you come back here?  After all this time?”  Honestly, everyone he knew was doing everything they could to get out of Beacon Hills as quickly as possible.

“I wanted to be closer to my family.”  Stiles scoffed.  “It’s true!  I… I missed you guys.”  She looked between the two most important men in her life; the sheriff’s eyes had gone soft, while Stiles’ hardened to stone.

“Then you shouldn’t have left in the first place.”

“Stiles!”

“Dad, it’s true!” he said, this time turning on his father.  “She left us.  Mom was dying and she _left_ us.”  He turned back to Ellie, taking a sick enjoyment out of seeing the guilt wash over her features.  “You want to stay here?  Fine.  But whatever you’re doing… leave me the hell out of it.”

“Stiles,” his dad called after him when he stalked away.

The few remaining party guests were balking rudely in the wake of the argument they’d just witnessed, causing Ellie to flush red with embarrassment.  “It’s okay, I’ll go.  See you soon,” she whispered quickly, giving her dad a peck on the cheek and scurrying out of the restaurant before he could act on either of his impulses, which were to either reassure her of her place in their family or beat the crap out of his big-mouthed son.  Not necessarily in that order.

Ellie was not dressed for the swanky downtown nightclubs – nor was that exactly her scene – so she slipped into the nearest dive bar and plopped down on an open barstool.

“What can I get ya?” the young, muscled bartender asked her in a pleasant southern drawl.

She scanned the specials menu, grimacing at the sugary concoctions that were far more complicated than her purposes required.  “Vodka soda and lime,” she concluded, settling on a simple mix with low calories and a high alcohol content.  Within seconds, the young bartender set a full-to-the-brim glass on a coaster in front of her, flashing a grin that she was sure earned him many a substantial tip.

Before he could turn his attention elsewhere, Ellie held up her index finger, requesting that he wait just a moment.  She tipped up the glass, ignoring the sharp sting in the back of her throat and the powerful vapors that flooded her sinuses; in just a few seconds she grinned, centering the now empty glass back on the coaster.  He returned her smile as he refilled her drink, now imagining that perhaps his night would end with a little more than a few extra bucks.

Derek was watching her from across the bar, amazed at how such a small woman could tolerate such a swift and massive intake of alcohol.  Though she was getting plenty of attention from the unattached men in the bar, she seemed either unaware or uninterested; which was good, since he knew the majority of the men that frequented this establishment were thieves and thugs – a fact that had actually brought him there that night.  A neighboring pack had trespassed through the ruins of his old house, and he needed to find out what they were looking for and why; he wouldn’t dare cross into their territory himself, alone, but that didn’t mean there weren’t other ways of retrieving information.

His agenda had been completely forgotten the second she walked through the door.  They had been in the same year at school, until she mysteriously disappeared sometime during their freshman year of high school.  It had been almost 10 years since he’d seen her; he might have recognized her – she had the same long, wavy hair and pixie face – but it was her scent that he noticed first.  It hit him just as hard as it had back then – somehow both spicy and sweet, and entirely intoxicating.  He could probably count on one hand the number of times they’d spoken directly to each other, but she’d made an impression.

Ellie was completely oblivious to the increasing masculine energy being drawn to her, focusing only on her goal of completely forgetting the Jerry Springer level of screwed up her relationship with her brother was.  She was not so inwardly focused, though, that the uninvited fingers trailing down her bare arm went unnoticed.

“Hey, hands to yourself!” she cautioned, slapping the man’s hand away with considerable force.  Normally she might have been at least a little more tactful, but the alcohol was doing a damn good job of numbing her better judgment.

Undeterred, and seeming to enjoy the game, the portly tattooed man tried again.  “Relax, sweetheart, it’s a compliment,” he purred, this time molding his palm over the crest of her hip and stepping in close.

Ugh, had this tactic ever worked on any woman ever?  Ellie grabbed him by his fingers, bending them painfully back until he yelped and retreated a few paces.  “No, it is disrespectful and unwelcome,” she corrected him, reaching into her pocket and laying some cash on the bar, offering an apologetic smile to the bartender who would clearly not be raking in the cash from her that night.  “Learn some manners,” she suggested, not entirely under her breath, to the ruffian, grabbing her coat and striding out of the bar with her head held high.

Alright, Derek was impressed.  He could have sworn that she had been tipsy enough to knock over with a feather, but in that moment she was calm and powerful and moved with the grace and fluidity of a dancer.  Though she had responded more kindly than he would have – the man did still have both of his arms, after all – Derek could taste the anger and humiliation radiating off of the biker as he watched her leave the bar.

Before he could take a single step in pursuit, Derek glided silently up behind him and twisted the nameless thug’s arm painfully around his back and held him there until he stopped struggling against the vice.  “Go back to your lowlife friends on the other side of the bar, forget about the girl, and maybe I leave your bones in one piece.”

Derek released his hold on the man that anyone but a pissed off werewolf would find intimidating, who scurried back to his equally rough-looking gang.  Derek pulled down the cuffs of his tan leather jacket and decided to take his leave; he would be hard pressed to find a willing criminal for hire after the power play he’d just pulled.  _Worth it_ , he decided, pulling open the door and nearly tripping over the small body perched on the curb.

Ellie had acted tough and put on a brave face, but the encounter was still unsettling and left her feeling weak and afraid.  She was trembling slightly, but when a large masculine presence filled the space on the sidewalk beside her, she sat up straight and drew up as much strength as she had left to turn and face him.

When she was met with an appraising, slightly amused pair of distantly familiar green eyes, she blew out the deep puff of air that had been keeping her erect and slumped forward, resting her elbows on her thighs.  He was keeping his distance, careful not to touch her, for which she was grateful.

“Would you like me to call you a cab?”  Derek was slightly worried that her bravery had emboldened her into temporarily believing that she was invincible and could therefore drive herself home.

“Yes.  Or, wait… no.”  Yes, Ellie certainly needed someone else to operate a vehicle; the problem was that she could not seem to remember her own address.  In her defense, she had only been living there for a few hours.  “I’ll need my car in the morning,” she said as an excuse, not wanting to reveal to this man that she was lost and alone.

“You really shouldn’t be –“

“I am not going to drive myself,” she snapped indignantly, though she didn’t really know who was going to drive her.  Derek raised his eyebrows, coming to the same conclusion.  Before he could offer to drive her himself, she climbed to her feet, stumbling a few steps before catching her balance.  She had almost forgotten how very drunk she was, but was quickly reminded as the headlights in the street went fuzzy and the world began to spin.

“Easy, now,” Derek soothed, offering his arm out as an anchor in the midst of her distorted center of balance.

Instead of taking it, she righted herself and marched off in the direction of her car.  Or at least where she thought she’d parked her car.  She could have sworn she’d left it down a little side street a few blocks from the bar, but she could see from one end of the alley to the other and there were no vehicles in sight.

It was the conspicuous lack of all automobiles that raised her suspicions.  Ellie took a few steps down the corridor, eyes scanning the walls until they landed on a tiny sign with a background that caused it to blend seamlessly into the brick behind it; in even tinier letters it read NO PARKING AFTER 8 PM.  VIOLATORS WILL BE TOWED AT OWNERS EXPENSE.

“Shit,” she muttered, placing her palms on either side of the sign and hanging her head in resignation.  She may not have known where home was, but now she had lost all hope of returning to it that night.

“Now will you let me offer you a ride?” Derek asked from around the corner.

“I am not getting into a car with a man I don’t even know,” she pouted, though she had no better alternatives.

“We could walk,” he suggested, again offering his hand.  She crossed her arms tightly over her chest and narrowed her eyes.  Derek sighed.  “You really don’t remember me, do you?”  It was an unusual occurrence, someone forgetting an encounter with Derek Hale – his interactions with people were limited, and usually resulted in either sex or violence; in either case, it was almost always memorable.

Ellie stuck out her bottom lip and examined him more thoroughly.  He was tall, his face unreadable yet captivating, and damn sexier than anyone had a right to be.  Derek smiled knowingly as her pulse sped up and her breathing quickened; her eyes, though, stayed sharp and assessing and he suddenly felt more exposed than if he were completely naked.  He could see the moment recognition sparked in her memory, and was relieved when her penetrating gaze finally broke away.

“Hale.”  This was Derek Hale, she was certain.

“Stilinski,” he acknowledged in reply, nodding in introduction.

Ellie’s defensive stance dropped.  “You remember me?”  She had been there so briefly, and had been gone for so long, she was certain this town had erased all remnants of her presence.  But of course Derek remembered her; she was intelligent, beautiful, kind.  And he could not for the life of him fathom how it was possible that she was produced from the same gene pool that had created her spastic pain-in-the-ass brother.

“You had a greater impact than myself, it would seem,” he conceded, though with no accusation in his words.  There were very few people left with whom he could start from a clean slate.  She gave a small smile and a disbelieving shake of her head.  “So, will you please let me be a gentleman and walk you home?” he asked cordially.

She cringed and took her bottom lip between her teeth.  Derek Hale may not pose a threat, but forgetting where you lived was still pretty damn embarrassing.  “Well, I just moved in this afternoon,” she explained preemptively.  Derek raised his eyebrows, as if asking _so what?_   “And, it’s like… you know when you buy a new car and then go shopping, and when you get back out to the parking lot and you can’t exactly… remember which car was yours?”

Derek continued to stare blankly at her; she really, really hoped that she didn’t have to say the words _I’m lost and I don’t know where my house_ _is_ out loud.  Ellie wasn’t expecting the genuine, gut-twisting laughter that came from his mouth; it was deep and loud and moved over and through her.  It was infectious, and she soon found herself joining in a fit of hysterical giggling at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation.

Once he had regained control of himself, Derek sighed contentedly.  “Alright; to the sheriff’s house it is.”

Ellie sobered up quickly, the exchange that had driven her to the bar in the first place again at the forefront of her thoughts.  “I am _not_ going to my father’s house,” she declared, holding up a scolding finger at him.

There was the slightest chance that she would remember more if her thoughts were a little less… muddy.  “How about we get some food in you?” he suggested.  And coffee – lots of coffee.

“Are you asking me on a date, Mr. Hale?”  She leaned forward to better narrow her eyes at him, but in doing so lost her balance and stumbled forward.

Derek easily caught her before she fell and she lingered in his arm, a little dazed.  “You’d know if I were taking you on a date.”  He leaned down so that he was at eye level, inhaled deeply, then winked.  “Trust me.”

Halfway into her second order of buttery, syrup-drenched blueberry pancakes, Ellie threw her head back and moaned.  “God, this is the best food I’ve ever had in my entire life.”  The sound made Derek shift uncomfortably in his seat, his thoughts having wandered to imagining other ways he could tease it from her lips.  “Are you sure you don’t want anything?”

“No, thank you.”

“Guess you don’t get a body like that eating shit like this,” she murmured low enough that another human probably wouldn’t have heard it.

Derek’s wolf ears, however, picked up every syllable.  He grinned.

“Hey!” she protested when he handed the waitress his credit card before she could even set the bill down on the table.  The protest was futile, though – the damage already done.  “I thought this wasn’t a date.”

“And as I said, it is not.”  When he saw she was still pouting, he leaned forward to whisper, “My dates usually end up burning calories, not consuming them.”  She gave a firm push to his shoulder and let out a disgusted snort, and god he even found that adorable.  “It’s not too late to turn it around.”  He’d meant the offer as a joke, but he could hear the sudden spike in her heart rate that caused a flush to bloom across her cheeks.

“Derek, I—“

Derek waved off whatever sputtering response she was attempting to form.  “Kidding.  Really,” he insisted, though neither of them looked particularly convinced.  “You can, uh, stay with me though.  Tonight.  If you want.”  An awkward silence followed.  “You know, until you can find your house again.”

And just like that, the tension was broken.  Ellie laughed, and Derek followed soon after. 

They hung around the diner for a few more cups of coffee before making their way to the exit.  It was then that Derek realized she had never actually given him an answer to his earlier offer. 

He was quiet for a moment, unaccustomed to bringing people into his personal spaces, especially those he barely knew.  But as she stood there, swaying slightly on her feet, he suddenly found himself secretly hoping for that very thing.  “My apartment is right around the corner,” he said softly, keeping his tone neutral.

She recognized this as an invitation, though he hadn’t actually asked her if she wanted to come up.  He was allowing her to decide her own boundaries without pressure; the feeling of freedom and empowerment was enough to make her want to kiss him, though that might not be the best idea since she’d decided to take him up on his offer. 

Because this was definitely not a date.


	2. First Contact

“Holy crap.”  The exclamation was out of her mouth before she could contain it.  His ‘apartment’ was palatial; two stories, separated by a grandiose spiral staircase.  Its size was magnified by unbelievably high ceilings and sparse – though undeniably expensive – furnishings.

Derek cared very little about the content and appearance of his dwelling – he had been sleeping on a ragged couch from the 70s before his uncle Peter could stand his living conditions no longer, and hired an interior decorator to fill the space – but he rather enjoyed Ellie’s awed reaction to his home.

She strode over to the couch and perched on the edge, her wide eyes still roaming the cavernous space and taking in its beautiful simplicity.  Ellie felt Derek’s eyes on her; when her eyes finally traveled back to the man who was arguably the most magnificent work of art in the room, she found him staring back with an intensity that rivaled her own.

Derek stalked closer to her, his massive frame somehow gliding silently and effortlessly across the wooden floors, and joined her on the couch, though at the opposite end so that the middle seat between them remained unoccupied.

Ellie cleared her throat and wrung her hands together, unsure what to say or do.  “You have a lovely home.”  Small talk.  There was a glorious, seemingly interested, god of a man sitting a few feet to her right and she had settled on small talk.

“Thank you.”  Derek sensed her discomfort, but he didn’t know how to alleviate it.  She had not exactly decided on a sleepover by choice, and especially after his earlier comments he was afraid she might be thinking that he… _expected_ something from her.  “The bed is over there,” he blurted out tactlessly, before realizing that was even more suggestive.  “I mean, I can sleep out here, on the couch.  It’s just… the bed is more comfortable.  You… would be more comfortable.  Sleeping there.  Alone.”  Derek was a man of few words, but this girl had him babbling senselessly, offering no lifeline to his fumbling stream of consciousness.

Ellie was rather enjoying his suave, stoic nature break down before her eyes; it made her bold.  She silenced him by sealing his lips with a kiss.  Slow at first, tentative, the kiss deepened as their tongues mingled in a matched rhythm that should have taken years to master.  Ellie swung around so that her body was facing him; she pulled away long enough to lift her knee up and over his waist until she was straddling his hips.

She sat down on his muscled thighs, guiding his hands to her hips; his fingers closed tightly around them, digging into the flesh at the small of her back as he trailed his lips across her jaw and down her neck, continuing across her collar bone.  She took his face in her hands and guided his mouth back to hers.

It had been a while since Derek had been so intimate with someone, and even longer since that intimacy had actually _meant_ something to him.  He didn’t know what it was about Ellie, but he seemed inexplicably drawn to her.  The word ‘mate’ came to mind – a concept described to him by his mother as the single person in the world that would best complement and challenge both the wolf and the man inside of him; you could say it was the werewolf version of ‘the one’.  The idea both thrilled and terrified him.

Derek was an Alpha – by nature, he took what he wanted by force and without reservation.  Why, then, was he taking so much pleasure in allowing this small human to be in such complete control of him?  Then again, perhaps he was deluding himself in thinking he was the one _allowing_ her to do anything; she could have been holding a silver dagger over his heart at that very moment and he wouldn’t do a damn thing to defend himself.

Ellie was not usually so forward; she told herself that she was just drunk, and Derek was hot, and she just wanted to feel wanted at that moment.  She even believed it, because the truth – that she felt a soul-deep, foundation-shaking, deep in your gut, otherworldly and inexplicable connection with this man she barely knew – would have had her running out the door.  Instead, she locked those thoughts within a vault in her mind and allowed her body to take the reins.

“Where did you say the bed was?” she asked between kisses, her voice much lower than it had been just moments before.  In response, and with what could have been described as a growl, he rose to his feet, easily lifting Ellie – who still had her legs wrapped around his hips – along with him.  They took their time making their way to the bed, stopping every so often to use a wall or side table for leverage to press close against each other.

Before Derek could throw her down in the middle of the bed, she untangled herself and stood in front of him, sandwiching Derek between herself and the bed.

“Sit,” she commanded.  A memory flashed through Derek’s mind – the hunters had captured him, chained him up, tortured him.  He had gone almost a week without food, but they offered him scraps in exchange for obeying the simple commands they barked at him like a common housepet.  He didn’t oblige them then, when he was on the brink of starvation, but somehow he found himself perched on the end of the bed.  This power Ellie had over him was beginning to rattle him.

Ellie took her time examining the large, muscular being before her; his eyes gave nothing away, just followed her as she paced a semi-circle around him.  After several passes, she crawled across the bed and sat on her knees at his back.

She could have done anything she wanted at that moment; Derek was certainly complicit enough.  Ellie even tried to convince herself that she would just have her way with him and then it would be out of her system; people did that all the time.  But instead, she noticed how his muscles – impressive as they were – were as tense as steel bands beneath his skin.  It almost looked uncomfortable, and she wondered if the man even knew how to relax.

Ellie slipped her hands beneath his shirt, grazing her fingertips along his lower back.  They traveled upward, pushing the soft fabric up to his shoulders, and she left a trail of kisses in their wake.  She scooted in closer so that her bent knees hugged his hips and her chest was pressed against his back.  She placed her hands flat against his clenched abs, then dragged one to lay over top of his heart.  Her chin rested on his shoulder and she nibbled at the crook of his neck.

“Relax, Derek.”  She stilled, letting him feel her weight and warmth surround him.

“Can’t.”  It was the only word he could get out through his tight jaw.  Derek wanted to release the tension in his body, but he was afraid of all the things he might do to Ellie if he allowed himself that freedom.

Ellie dropped her hands and pulled them out from under his shirt to rest on her thighs.  She lifted her chin and instead rested her forehead on the back of his shoulder.  She knew it was too fast, too good to be true, and all her insecurities came bubbling to the surface.  “I’m sorry.  Sorry.  We don’t… if you don’t want to, we don’t have to.”

“What?”  Derek had supernatural hearing; he had most certainly heard her words correctly, he just couldn’t fathom the meaning behind them.

“You have been so kind to me tonight, and you invited me over, and I just thought…”  Honestly, she wasn’t really thinking with her brain all that much.  “I guess I took advantage.  I should probably–“  She didn’t know what the right course of action was here, but just as she began to pull away Derek spun around to face her. 

His expression was something like shocked incredulity; eyebrows high, his mouth actually formed a disbelieving ‘o’ shape.  He had basically stalked her at the bar, dragged her up to his apartment, and literally carried her over to the bed and she thought _she_ was taking advantage of _him_?  He would have laughed if it weren’t so damn ridiculous.

“Derek?”  He had been staring open-mouthed for several moments, and again she wasn’t sure what that meant.  “Did I- do you want me to go?”

That got his attention.  He clamped his jaw shut so quickly that an audible click could be heard as his teeth collided.  Her leaving was the last thing he wanted, but there was still a very animal part of him that tended to take over when he gave into his more… primal urges.  She had to know what she was signing up for.

When he just continued to stare, Ellie started to slide toward the edge of the bed.  “I should go.”

“Wait.”  Derek was tense and breathing hard again, and Ellie briefly wondered if that was just his natural state.  “I don’t want you to go.”

“But?”  It definitely sounded like there was a ‘but’.

“But I’m not exactly… I’m not the most… gentle.”  This time it was Ellie’s turn to stifle a laugh, earning a serious scowl from the man sitting in front of her.  “I’m serious.”

Ellie sobered up and considered his words more carefully.  “Would you ever hurt me?”

“Not on purpose.”

“Would you stop if I asked you to?”

“Of course.”  He had at least that much self control.  He hoped.

“Then I don’t see the problem.”  She crawled over and straddled his lap.  His hands instinctively landed on her waist and trailed up her bare back.  “Kiss me, Derek.”

It was all the invitation he needed.  In one swift movement, he brought his lips to hers, using the momentum to push her flat against the bed beneath him.  It took all his restraint to simply tug the shirt over her head instead of ripping it to pieces, but he couldn’t muster the same delicacy with her bra.  The lacy fabric tore right down the middle and flopped uselessly off her shoulders.

Ellie frowned down at the ruined lingerie.  “You’re going to have to buy me another one of those,” she teased.

“Gladly,” Derek growled, invigorated by the idea of watching her try on sexy undergarments.

He tried to go slow, to attend to her needs as much as his own, but she seemed just as enthusiastic as he was to get on to the main performance.  She had fully intended on being responsible and taking things slow and being sure to use protection, but before she knew it they were both completely naked and practically vibrating with unreleased tension.

Derek traced the curves from her neck all the way down to between her legs, receiving a surprised and desperate gasp from Ellie, and was pleased to discover the extent of her arousal.  She gripped tightly onto his broad shoulders as he explored her gentle folds with practiced fingers.

“Derek.”  He continued his ministrations and her back arched off the bed.  “Derek, please.”

“Please what?”  He was almost entirely sure that this was not an indication that she wanted him to stop, but he would not take that chance.  Plus, he kind of wanted to hear her say it.

“Please.  I need –“  Her words were cut short as another involuntary gasp escaped her mouth, tingles of pleasure rolling through her body in waves.

“What do you need?”  Alright, now he was just teasing her.  But he liked the way the breathless, erratic words fell from her swollen lips.

Ellie stilled, her eyes focusing on Derek’s face.  She took one hand and laid it across his cheek, her thumb tracing the outline of his bottom lip.  “You.”  They were both momentarily taken aback by the confession; it stirred something deep within and scared the crap out of them. 

Afraid that she’d somehow ruined the moment – said too much too soon – Ellie took the initiative.  She wrapped her legs around Derek’s narrow hips and stifled the question on his lips with a kiss.  She pushed him back so that he was sitting on his heels and settled herself on his lap.  His hands traveled up her thighs and around her hips, gently brushing her ribs as they made their way to her breasts.

Not wanting to neglect her partner, Ellie reached down and began stroking Derek’s impressive length, starting at the base and working her way up the shaft.  When she got to his sensitive tip, Derek dropped his hands and dug them into the comforter, trying to refrain from going over the edge.  Now free from his grasp, Ellie scooted back and removed her hands, opting instead to continue working him over with her mouth.

Derek had been tortured before – honest-to-god chains and medieval instruments tortured – but none of it compared to the agony of holding back his climax in the wake of her talented tongue; he was literally shaking with the effort.

“Ellie,” Derek pleaded when he could finally stand it no more.  His breathing was ragged and voice strained, but it got her attention.

“Is that- was that alright?”  Though he had warned Ellie about the potential roughness, he was the one who looked in more physical pain than pleasure.  “Do you want me to stop?”

“Yes,” he ground out through clenched teeth.  The sexual frustration in his voice must have sounded like anger because Ellie’s face fell.  “No, no- not because… you were… that was incredible, I just need…”  He was still trembling slightly and the fact that a good majority of blood had retreated from his brain into his groin was not helping him to form coherent sentences.

“What do you need?”

His own words were thrown back at them, but suddenly he wasn’t sure how to answer them.  “I don’t know.”

Ellie got up on her knees and crawled her way back to him.  She positioned herself so that he just barely grazed her opening and used one of her hands to cup his face, the other to reach between them and align him with her entrance.  “I do.”  Slowly, ever so slowly, she lowered herself down, moaning softly at the gentle burn of her sensitive tissues stretching to accommodate his girth, never breaking eye contact. 

It was only when he was fully sheathed within her that he broke out of whatever trance she’d held him in.  Derek knew he was already close, and so used his other hands to help bring Ellie up to speed.  They developed a rhythm – slow at first, then with increasing urgency as their hips collided.  As Ellie reached her peak, her nails dug into his back as if holding onto him for dear life and she threw her head back with a guttural cry.  When her walls clenched around him, Derek finally allowed his own release to spill deep within her.

“Holy shit,” Ellie said as she collapsed back against the pillows, panting and sweating and laughing in pure bliss.  When her partner offered no sort of response, her eyes popped open and found him staring at her with an unreadable expression on his face.  “Derek?”

Words did not exist to describe how the Alpha was feeling; some nonsensical mixture of pride and satisfaction and joy and… absolute terror.  The moment they came together, something in his world shifted.  For the first time in a very long time, Derek felt uneasy and unsure and completely at another’s mercy; it was not a feeling he enjoyed.

“I’ve got to go.”

“What?  Now?  Derek it’s –“  Ellie looked around the room, but there were no clocks in sight.

“I’m leaving!”  The words were harsher than he’d intended, and Ellie bit back whatever questions were still on her lips.

He was being a coward, he knew, running from his emotions instead of dealing with them; but still he could not stop his feet from carrying him across the room.  He chanced a look back at Ellie and immediately regretted it.  She’d sat up in the bed, the sheet lying in a pool at her waist and revealing the slick tan skin of her naked torso; her expression was one first of shock, followed closely by hurt and embarrassment.

“Stay as long as you like,” he added, softer this time, before taking off into the night.  He just needed to clear his head, to spend some time as a wolf running and hunting.  That would remind him who he was; it would ground him.  At least he hoped it would.

“Well fuck me,” she muttered, then laughed bitterly at the irony of her words.  She glanced around the room, unsure what to do exactly.  It was awkward.  Derek was basically a stranger, but it also felt – both physically and emotionally – like they were very intimately acquainted.

Ellie blew out a breath and navigated her way around the room enough to find a towel before running what she thought would be a shower.  When she stepped into the bathroom, she let out an audible squeal upon seeing the ornate clawfoot tub that adorned the space.  She didn’t take Derek for a ‘bath’ kind of guy, and the image of his hulking, brooding self surrounded by bubbles almost took the sting away from being abandoned.  Almost.

By the time she had scrubbed all the sex off of her, Ellie realized she was starving.  The alcohol seemed to have worn off the second she put her tongue down Derek’s throat, and they had certainly burned off the diner carbs after that.  She went back into the bedroom, sighing at the ruined state of her undergarments.  The rest of her clothes reeked of beer and smoke from the bar and she decided it would be a travesty to put them back onto her sinfully supple spa-worthy skin.

There were two options.  First, she could continue around the apartment completely naked; she wouldn’t mind, save for the entire east-facing wall that opened to the balcony and was made entirely out of glass.  So she went with the second option – rummaging through Derek’s drawers as non-invasively as possible to find something to borrow.

“You have such a tiny, perfect, V-shaped waist – why are all your pants so giant!” she groaned in frustration, unable to find bottoms that didn’t slide right back down to her ankles.  Luckily, his tops were equally massive on her small frame, and his plain black t-shirt hung to her mid-thigh.  “This will have to do.  Not like he hasn’t already seen what’s underneath.”

There wasn’t much in the way of food, and she wasn’t one of those people you see on the cooking channel that can just magically concoct a restaurant quality dish out of gummy bears and ramen noodles, so she made do with cereal and fruit.

Well, that killed an hour or two.  He didn’t have a tv – who doesn’t have a tv?? – so she went about exploring the apartment, again taken by the amazing and incredibly pricy artwork that adorned the walls.  Everything in this place was a work of art – the furniture, the architecture, hell, even the dishes – and Ellie suddenly felt very out of place in nothing but an old t-shirt.

She would have left if she could, but it was kind of hard when you had no clothes, no car, and no fucking idea where your house was.  The bed had lost its appeal, so Ellie settled herself on the couch, pulling what looked to be a hand-woven afghan over top of her bare legs and drifting slowly off to sleep.


	3. Soul/Mate

Derek didn’t know where he was going, he just knew he needed to go.  It was something he hated about himself, but it was also the thing that probably kept him alive.  It was only when he stopped, muscling his way through the door and past a surprised and slightly irritated Peter, that he realized what it was he was looking for.

“Good eveni-morning to you too, nephew,” he grumbled, closing the door behind him.

“What do you know about mating?”

Peter put on a look of mock seriousness.  “Now, Derek, we talked about this.  When one wolf loves another wolf very much –“

“Don’t be an ass.”

Peter pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, looking every bit as put upon as he felt.  “What do you want from me, Derek?” 

“I want to know everything you know.  About… mate pairs.”

Alright, Peter was intrigued.  It had been a long time since the werewolf community had encountered a true mate pair; even Derek’s parents – the perfect, quintessential werewolf power couple – were not natural born mates.  It just didn’t happen anymore.

“May I ask why this was so urgent that you felt the need to wake me up before the sun?”  Derek raised an eyebrow; the annoyance in his uncle’s words and demeanor belied the sharp interest sparkling in his eyes.  It took all of half a second for Peter to put two and two together.  “Oh, my dear sweet nephew, you are in love!”  Peter reconsidered the stages of the bond.  “Or, in lust at least.”

Derek cut his eyes away, knowing that his uncle would be able to detect the lie in his denial.  “So what do you know?”

Peter chewed it over for a moment.  On the one hand, he very much liked it when Derek was thrown a curveball – it made him an easy target, should the need arise to get him out the way.  On the other hand, by continuing the discussion he could control the flow of information and find out more details about this particular pairing, which could be used to his great benefit in the future.

“I would like to give you answers, I really would, but there is just so little known about the bond.”  He was only slightly exaggerating, but Derek still rolled his eyes.  “What I do know is this.  The male and female are drawn to each other, can’t keep their hands off each other – a fact I’m sure you’ve realized by now.  You reek of sex.”  Peter wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“I’ve been attracted to people before.  This was different.”

“Interesting; but irrelevant.  Once you’ve claimed each other –“

“What do you mean claimed?”

Now it was Peter’s turn to roll his eyes.  “Didn’t your father teach you anything?  A wolf can claim anyone as a partner, exchanging words and blood and bodily fluids and all that; it must be done in order for us to procreate.”

“Then why is this any different?”

“I’m getting to that,” Peter snapped, tired of being interrupted.  “In a normal pair, there is a dominant partner and a submissive one – usually an Alpha and a Beta; or, if a young pup is looking to piss off his parents, a wolf and a human.”  Peter smiled, remembering fondly a time when he was that young pup.  “The dominant of the two may have as many partners as he likes, drawing from them and starting as many little fledgling wolf packs as he wants until they’ve outgrown their usefulness and then severing the bond.”

“Isn’t that painful?”

“Oh yes.  Quite.”  Peter was not fazed by this in the slightest; in his opinion, the weak were meant to serve the strong.  That was their purpose.

Derek recalled a friend of his mother’s – a withered shell of a woman that looked and sounded like she was already dead; she was one of these discarded partners.  She’d given Derek the creeps, but his mother only looked at her with sorrow and compassion.  Derek shuddered.  “But mated pairs are different.”  It was both a question and a statement; Peter would not have brought up the issue if it wasn’t.

“Mmm,” he acknowledged.  “Once you have claimed each other, the mate bond becomes permanent.”  Peter looked to Derek, whose lips were a tight line trying to refrain from interjecting more questions.  “Meaning you are one, bound only to each other.  You will only ever love each other; only be able to produce offspring with each other.”

Peter paused for dramatic effect, rolling his head in the direction of his nephew and waiting for him to beg for more.

“…and?”

“So glad you asked, Derek.  This is where it gets interesting.”  Derek ground his teeth as Peter took several paces, positioning himself just so and folding his hands in front of him before continuing.  “See, in a true mate pair, the connection, the flow of power is not just one way.  As the bond strengthens, you will begin to share things through it – emotions, pain, power– all without even having to be in the same room.  That’s what makes them such a force to be reckoned with.”  He leaned in as if to whisper a secret.  “And puts them at the tippy-top of many inferiorly complexed Alpha’s hit lists.”

Derek’s silence now had nothing to do with restraint; he was scared shitless.  Ellie didn’t even know about the existence of werewolves, much less that she may very well be a supernatural match destined to spend her life soul-mated to one.  Not to mention the fact that anyone who got within 10 feet of Derek Hale usually ended up dead; except for Peter, unfortunately, who had his smug arms folded across his chest as he silently smirked at him.

“So when do we get to meet the lucky she-wolf?”  His tone was nonchalant, but Peter was desperate to discover the identity of the other half of this duo.

“Never, if she’s lucky.”  Peter didn’t have any clue who the girl was – he’d assumed she was another werewolf.  Maybe he’d only known mated pairs to be between two wolves.  But Ellie was human; she was fragile and kind and blissfully unaware of the danger that constantly invaded his life.  He wouldn’t do that to her; he had to put an end to this before it couldn’t be undone.

Without another word, Derek took off back down the road and into the woods.  “You’re welcome!” Peter called after him through the still open door.  “Ungrateful.”

When Derek walked back into the loft, he heard Ellie’s heart rate pick up even as she remained motionless on the couch; though her eyes didn’t open, she was awake.  He was rehearsing the words in his head that would excise her from his life as he padded silently over to her; but as he knelt down by her head, he was accosted by that same irresistible, spicy and sweet scent that she exuded.  It was so concentrated and potent that it clouded his brain for several long moments.

“You smell like dirt.  And sweat.  And,” she sniffed.  “… expensive cologne?”  Her eyes popped open and she propped herself on one elbow.  “Where did you go?”

“None of your business.”  His tone was clipped, but mostly because that was all he could get out before his sensitive nose was overwhelmed again by her shift in movement – she was wearing his shirt and now her scent was mixed with his own and he’d be lying if he said he’d ever smelled anything more alluring.  “I see you’ve made yourself at home.”  He was being rude, but he couldn’t exactly explain his whereabouts; plus, if he was a total dick maybe she would just pull away of her own accord.  Staring at her bare leg and unbridled chest was enough to make him question whether he was strong enough to do it on his own.

“Dick.”  Ellie stuck her tongue out at him and rolled over to face the back of the couch.  The motion caused the blanket to come untucked and left her bare ass out in all its glory. 

Derek could not contain his laughter; the whole scene was enough to have him rolling on the floor.  She reached behind her so that her hand partially obscured the more graphic bits, but Derek was quick to reposition it.

“I rather like the view,” he explained, using a heroic amount of self control not to sink his teeth into that milky flesh.

“Then you never should have run away from it,” Ellie pouted, still wary in the wake of such a sudden rejection but slightly appeased by the obvious husk in his voice.

“I know.  I was–“  He stopped before he revealed too much.  He was supposed to be severing ties, damnit, not explaining himself in an attempt to reassure her.

Ellie rolled back over, tucking her arms beneath her chin and studying Derek’s expression.  It would have looked indifferent, maybe even a little angry, except for his eyes; they were slightly wider, more open than usual, and echoed the fear that she’d felt that night.  Not fear of _him_ , exactly, but rather the inexplicable and inescapable  draw that had brought them into each others’ arms.

“I’m scared too.”  His eyes snapped to hers, but she continued before he could respond.  “This doesn’t… we don’t have to make this a thing.  If you don’t want.”  It was already a thing she doubted she would forget anytime soon, but she had been in enough deadbeat relationships to know that it was useless to try and pin down a man that wanted to stay playing the field.

Instead of answering her question, he countered with his own.  “What do _you_ want?”  He doubted it was a dangerous, unbreakable werewolf marriage, but still… he was curious.

Ellie pursed her lips and thought for a moment.  She had just moved back into town.  She was going to start a new job in a few months.  Her relationship with Stiles was still entirely dysfunctional.  Yeah, starting a serious relationship with a guy she found in a bar was probably not the best idea at the moment.  But looking into his eyes – beautiful and mysterious and entirely too discerning – she couldn’t bring herself to want to break it off.

“I don’t know,” she admitted on a sigh.  When Derek stayed silent, she reached out and brushed her fingertips against the stubble on his chin.  “I know that I like you.”  Her hands trailed lower, following the sharp angle of his jaw and down the soft curve of his neck.  “I like this.”  She softly threaded her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and his eyes fluttered closed.

Derek exhaled sharply through his nose and leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the couch.  He really should put a stop to this.  The girl deserved better than whatever dark, bloody future Derek could ever offer her.  But… just because they could become soul-bonded, one day, didn’t mean that it was an inevitability. 

He couldn’t deny that the one night they’d spent together had already given him more satisfaction than even his longest previous relationship.  It wasn’t just the physical, either.  Being around Ellie was like… it was like meditating.  Like the wolf inside him that had been pacing and prowling endlessly for his whole life was finally content to just sit and _be_.

It was a pleasantly foreign enough feeling for Derek to convince himself that they could toe this line a little longer.  For now, they could casually enjoy the other’s company.  And if things ever felt like they were getting too serious – like Derek was losing control of his feelings or his instincts – then they could end it.  He would end it.

Ellie continued tracing patterns into his scalp and for the first time in a long time, Derek let the worries fall from his thoughts.  He let go of the pain and guilt of his past, of the mission he’d been diverted from the night before, of the heavy weight of starting and leading a pack alone and with no fucking clue what he was doing.  If anything, it was further confirmation that something in her soul sang to his like a siren’s call, luring him out of darkness and into a place that was more home than the pile of ashes that remained of the place in which he’d grown up.

Ellie continued her gentle massage, content that – for once – Derek actually looked like he’d put down the weight of the world for a moment.  When his hair was thoroughly mussed, she expanded the radius across his shoulders and down his back.  Several minutes passed and she thought he might have fallen asleep; but when she paused, exploring the outline of a raised area along his ribcage, he picked his head up to look at her.

“Sorry, I –“  Ellie wasn’t exactly sure what she was sorry for, but the haunted look was back in his eyes and she felt at fault.  Wordlessly, Derek reached behind his neck and grabbed the collar of his t-shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it to the side with one smooth motion, and guided her hand back to the spot she’d discovered.  “Is that –“  Ellie leaned in and carefully brushed her fingers across the angry red skin; it was a scar – a relatively fresh one, from the looks of it.  As she looked, she noticed that his body was covered in them, each in various stages of healing.  “Who–“

“A lot of people, over the years,” he answered preemptively.  Derek didn’t know why he was showing her; he wasn’t looking for sympathy, but a part of him just wanted Ellie to know him better.  Even the parts he didn’t like.  He had expected a look of pity, but when her eyes found his they were full of something else – recognition.  And respect.

Ellie had been through a lot in her relatively few years.  Her scars were not nearly so obvious – emotional trauma rarely leaves such obvious physical evidence – and she didn’t know the specifics of why or who or how long Derek’s trials had been.  And yes, maybe he still held onto his anger, but he walked with his head held high.  And with hands that looked like they could crush iron, he had still touched her with the delicacy of an artist’s brush on canvas.

“You are…”  She wasn’t even sure words existed that described what Derek was.  Ellie furrowed her brows, frowning at the inadequacy of words to give voice to her thoughts.

“So are you,” he replied quietly.

Ellie cocked her head at him, considering his words, then her face lit up in a grin.  Derek was taken off guard by the expression and his heart pounded in his chest.  What the hell was the matter with him?  The girl just smiled at him, for goodness sakes.  When he didn’t move, Ellie bit down on her bottom lip, glancing down at her exposed leg and then back to Derek.  He leaned down and pressed his lips to her bare hip, leaving a trail of kisses up her side, around her shoulder, and settled into the crook of her neck.  Ellie untucked her arms and wrapped them around his neck, nudging his body closer; he took the hint and climbed onto the couch with her.

It was different when they made love this time.  There was no need to rush, no sense of urgency.  In fact, time seemed to stand still as they explored and tasted and teased every inch of flesh until they could each read the other’s body like a favorite book.  The only indication that time was passing was the canvas of pinks and oranges highlighting the silhouette of the cityscape through the balcony windows.

Derek may have had supernatural strength and stamina, but something about his time with Ellie had absolutely drained him.  Or maybe his time in the rest of the world had drained him and being with Ellie finally made him realize just how exhausted he really was – and gave him a safe place to rest.  Which was exactly how Derek had ended up passed out on the couch – which would probably now have to be thoroughly steam-cleaned – while Ellie walked out onto the balcony to make a phone call.

The first call she made, now that it was well into the morning, was to her landlord to find out what her address actually was.  She wrote it down in her phone and geo-tagged it on the digital map just in case.

Her next call was to her dad, asking if he (and Stiles) would like to get together for dinner sometime that week.  The sheriff, of course, agreed, though couldn’t entirely cover up the very loud protests his son was making in the background.  Still, it was likely the best offer she was going to get and she thanked him.

When she walked back into the apartment, Derek was in the kitchen setting out two plates of food for them.  “You might have to start stocking some real food in this place if we are going to keep doing _that_ on a regular basis,” she commented, nibbling on a triangle of buttered toast.

“A small price to pay, I assure you.”  Derek forewent his own meager breakfast and wrapped himself around Ellie’s back.  She responded instantly, melting into his embrace to seek the comfort that she could not provide for herself.  “What’s wrong?” he asked, though his supernatural hearing had picked up enough of her phone conversation that he could guess.

“My brother,” she sighed.

“Ah, yes.”  Stiles did tend to bring out that frustrated, slightly exasperated side to Derek as well.  “What has the younger Stilinski done to earn your disfavor?”

“Nothing.  It’s… it’s the other way around.  I- he’s pissed at me.  For leaving.”

“What, _ten_ _years_ ago?”  Honestly, Derek was a little surprised that Stiles’ hyperactive brain was capable of hanging onto a single emotion for that long.

“Yeah.  It’s- he’s not wrong.  I shouldn’t have left.  Had to, at the time, but… I could’ve come back.  I could have—“  Ellie shook herself out of the what-ifs and should-haves that had already kept her away from her family for too many years.  “I mean, I knew coming back wasn’t going to be easy, but… god, I had no idea he hated me this much.”

Derek’s arms tightened around her and he rested his chin on the top of her head.  “Hate and love are two sides of the same coin, separated by a very thin edge.  If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t give a shit either way.”  When she didn’t respond to what, in Derek’s opinion, were very sage words of wisdom, he spun her around in his grasp and tilted her chin up so she would look him in the eye.  “He’ll come around.”  She raised up on her tiptoes and pecked Derek lightly on the tip of his nose.  He grimaced at the cutesy display of affection, but that only caused her to repeat the gesture.  “Alright, alright, enough of that,” he growled, releasing his hold on Ellie’s waist.

His obvious distress caused her to giggle.  Then she remembered the first call she’d made and sighed.  At Derek’s questioning look she explained, “I’m going to have company over this week and I don’t even have a dining table.”  Her mind quickly combed through the possibilities of where and how she could pick up some essential furniture items before she remembered.  “Shit, I don’t have a car!” she exclaimed, slapping a hand to her forehead – how could she have forgotten?  That’s how she’d ended up at Derek’s in the first place.

Derek smirked down at her bewildered expression and hooked his index finger around the collar of his shirt where it hung loosely off one of her shoulders.  “If I were you, I’d be more concerned with the fact that you don’t have any clothes.”


	4. Awkward Family Dinners

For the second time in as many nights, Peter’s sleep was interrupted by an incessant pounding on his front door.  Before it was even fully open, two members of the Atwood clan came barging into his living room.  Charon and Alton Atwood were not the smartest werewolves – low on the totem pole in their family – but they were still well-trained and deadly.  And obviously not happy.

“What can I do for you gentlemen?” Peter asked with a haughty exasperation, as if he was being gracious by accommodating them despite his irritation at the intrusion.

“The amulet was not where you said it’d be,” Alton sneered, the old scar splitting his upper lip only intensifying the expression.

“I didn’t say it would be there, I said that was the last place I saw it.”  Which was the truth, not that Peter would have given them the exact location of something so precious and powerful in the first place.

“You moved it.”

Peter shrugged.  “I am not the only one with access and motive.”  Obviously, as that was what the two bloodhounds before him had been doing just days before.

“You will get it for us,” Charon, the slightly more intelligent one, insisted.  “You gave mother your word.”

“I don’t believe you were present when Odette and I spoke.”  Peter’s answering smirk insinuated that something more than just words were exchanged behind closed doors that night.  “It was a gesture of good faith, telling you what I knew about the amulet.  I thought there was a chance we could put our family differences behind us and be friends.  I can be a very good… _friend_ ,” Peter purred, again suggestively.

In truth, it was about more than a few rounds in the bedroom with the insatiable matriarch of the Atwood pack.  Peter was a Hale, and it had been his birthright to rule over their territory once his brother died.  Instead, Derek had claimed the title and effectively driven their good name into the ground.  The members of their pack were either killed or had abandoned the family of their own accord, and Derek was left with nothing but a large border to defend and nothing to protect it but a quickly crumbling respect for the reputation his parents had built.

So… Peter had decided to hedge his bets.  If Derek couldn’t create his own pack to hold onto the area himself, Peter would find someone who could.  The Atwoods were one of the oldest and widest spread packs in the country, but Beacon Hills was a powerhouse of supernatural energy that had, up until this point, been just out of their reach.  And in exchange for the rule of his very own little piece of their empire, Peter agreed to help give it to them.  Becoming a part of the Atwood hierarchy would be better than the inevitable decimation his current ‘pack’ would soon suffer once the more opportunistic wolves decided to just take what they wanted.  At least this way he would get something out of the deal.

But Peter prided himself on his survival instincts, on being able to bet on the winning horse.  Occasionally that involved maiming the current frontrunner, but it’s the winners that write the history and any misdeeds that may have gotten him there could easily be swept under the run by all those enjoying the spoils of his dirty work.

However, that also meant occasionally switching sides when the tides turned, and knowing that his nephew was in the throes of a true mate pairing, his alliances were currently swinging back in this direction.  Perhaps he could stay in Beacon Hills with his family, with his daughter, and not under the thumb of an incredible gorgeous, yet incredibly domineering she-wolf.

And these two thugs had just given him the perfect opportunity to bow out without fault of his own.

“I truly am sorry that I could not be of more assistance,” he said, feigning remorse.  “Perhaps this partnership was just not meant to be.”

Alton looked ready to accept this idea – he didn’t want Peter to be part of their pack almost as much as Peter himself didn’t – but Charon was not so willing to let this go.  “You made a deal.  You will keep up your end, or you will pay.”

Peter sighed heavily and held up his hands in question.  “What would you have me do?  I told you what I remembered, but I hadn’t been to the family estate in years.  So as I said, maybe it would be better if we just—“

Faster than even Peter could react, Charon swung out a fist that collided with his chest and pinned him up against the wall with one of his massive forearms.  “You have three days to bring us the amulet, or else we take something of yours until you do.”

Peter was left sputtering and heaving on the floor, but it was more inconvenient than painful – the bruises they’d squeezed into his ribs and throat were already healing.  After a few brief revenge fantasies, his thoughts landed on Malia.  He hoped that Odette was not foolish enough to try and kidnap the daughter of an Alpha in his own territory; she still respected the rules of battle – a stupid notion, in Peter’s opinion – and such an act would be an all-out declaration of war.

Still, they believed Peter owed them a debt and were quite skilled at finding the chink in your armor and twisting the knife where it hurt.  They’d had Beacon Hills within their grasp and would likely not let it go so easily.  They would be coming for him, for Derek.  And he sincerely hoped that whoever Derek’s mate was, she one hell of a woman… otherwise, they were most certainly going to lose.

***

With Derek’s help – mostly in the muscles department – Ellie was able to unpack the few things she had and purchase the few things she could currently afford to furnish her empty townhouse.  She got the essentials – a bed, which Derek was more than willing to help her break in, as well as a couch, a secondhand dining set, and a few carefully chosen decorations that pulled everything together and started to make it feel like home.

Unfortunately, Derek was unable to convince her to part with the large, heavy coffee table that had enough rings stains and divots on its surface that it could pass for a piece in a modern art collection.

“It’s got character,” she insisted, going on to explain that it was the first thing she’d ever really bought for herself with her own money.  That it had held endless papers and coffee mugs as she studied for her GED all the way through to finishing her undergraduate degree.  And that, on more than one occasion when the world and her life had become too much to handle, she had curled up beneath its sturdy legs, breathed in the lingering scents of nature trapped in the wood, and allowed herself to feel safe and protected.

She loved that old, worn piece of furniture for all its flaws and imperfections, and Derek briefly wondered if she looked at his broken body with the same sort of wistful affection.

When Friday rolled around, Derek stayed long enough to help her get dinner ready for her father and brother.  Both victims of having to grow up too soon, the best meal Ellie and Derek could muster between them involved some sort of heat-in-the-oven chicken dish with a side of pre-seasoned ready rice.  The salad, at least, was handmade and almost made it look like she knew what she was doing.

“Stop worrying, it’s going to be fine,” Derek assured her, wrapping his body around her back and pressing his lips into the crook of her neck as she chopped some tomatoes.

“I’m not worried,” she lied.  Ellie had moved all the way back here to try and repair the relationships she’d mangled with her estranged family.  Meeting Derek and having… well, whatever this was, was nice but it was not why she’d come.  If tonight didn’t go well, if they couldn’t put the past behind them, she didn’t really have a Plan B.  “But you should probably go; they’ll be here soon.”

“Not ready for me to meet the family?”  The thought amused him, as he probably knew them better than Eleanor at this point.

“I’m not even sure _I’m_ ready to meet the family,” she murmered as her chopping motions unintentionally became more vigorous.  A hand reached out to still the one she had on the large blade and she looked up to see Derek staring at her with concern.  “It’s fine.  I’ll be fine.”

He searched her eyes, which held a determination that would have been convincing to anyone without werewolf senses.  But Derek could hear the slight elevation of her heart rate, could practically tasted the bitter nip of anxiety in the air around her.  “They’re your family, El.  And in my experience, no matter what you’ve done, what you’ve been through, family sticks together.  Whether you’ve been gone for 10 minutes or 10 years.”

It certainly looked like there was a story behind those words, but it would have to wait.  The doorbell rang and Ellie shooed Derek out the back while she went to receive her family.

Dinner was… awkward, to say the least.  After pleasantries were exchanged and the table was set, they ate in relative silence.  Stiles kept brooding and looking at his watch while the sheriff tried and failed again and again to make small talk.

By the time Ellie asked them if they wanted to stay for dessert and her dad immediately accepted, Stiles had had enough.

“Alright, I sat through dinner under threat of house arrest, but I told Malia I’d meet her an hour ago.  You can’t just keep me hostage here.”

“You only made plans with her because you were trying to get out of dinner in the first place.  She can wait.” 

Stiles wanted to point out that his girlfriend had a set of fangs and a short temper, but couldn’t very well say that in front of his sister – an outsider.  “I don’t even understand why we’re here.  The most I’ve heard from your precious daughter in the past decade is the occasional 99 cent birthday card, which usually arrived no less than two weeks too late.  And now we’re supposed to, what, drop everything because she’s had some crisis of conscience or something?”

“Stiles—“ the sheriff began in warning.

“No.”  Stiles pushed violently back in his chair and stood from the table.  “I’m not putting my life on hold for someone who’s never bothered to give a shit about me.”

                “Stiles!  Do not speak to your sister that way.” 

“Why not?  She’s never done anything for anyone but herself.”

“It’s okay, dad,” Ellie sighed, collecting the dishes from the table and hoping to hold back her tears long enough to ferry them back to the kitchen.

“No it goddamn isn’t.  Stiles, you have no idea what Ellie has done for this family!”

Stiles blinked incredulously at his father for a few seconds.  He had always defended her to him, but how could the man possible still believe, after all these years, that his daughter could do no wrong?  “She should have _been_ here, dad.”

“That’s enough.  You wanna know what your sister was doing?”

Ellie nearly dropped the plates she was holding as her stomach twisted violently.  “Dad, don’t.  You don’t have to–“

“No, I want to know,” Stiles interrupted.  “What, dad?  What was perfect little Eleanor doing while we were here taking care of mom?”  Stiles had held her hair when she threw up, held her up when she couldn’t walk, just… held her, when she didn’t want to hold on herself.  For a long time it was his everything, and it still wasn’t enough.

“She was taking care of _us_.”  Noah Stiles blew out a breath and ran his hands along his face, the deep creases in his brow more pronounced than they had been in years.  “When your mom got sick, I couldn’t… I couldn’t care about anything else.  I stayed by her side as much as I could, and the deputies understood, but… Stiles, we were drowning.”

“I don’t – what do you mean?”

“I missed work.  The hospital bills were piling up.  The house was falling apart.  Your sister, she…”  Ellie set down the plates, walked over to her father, and gave his arm a firm squeeze.  It calmed him enough to continue.  “She was too young.”

“I don’t understand.”

“We needed money, Stiles,” Ellie explained.  “I was 14 – not old enough to get a job, legally.  And dad was on the force; no one in town would ever hire me.”  And even if they did, it would not have been enough to keep them above water.

“So you left to… get a job?  But dad had a job.  And insurance.”

“Which didn’t cover what they decided was a ‘pre-existing’ condition.”  It had been many years since he’d had that phone call with the insurance company, but the elder Stilinski’s blood still boiled every time he thought about their callous dismissal.  “We had some saved, but it wasn’t enough.  Doctors hadn’t even figured out what was wrong with her, but she was stable and they were going to release her anyway.”  It would have been a death sentence, sooner rather than later; though the hospital was sympathetic, at the end of the day they were a business and there was nothing they could do.

“So, what, a 14 year old high school dropout leaves town, gets a sketchy job and her own apartment _and_ has enough to send back home to dad?  Yeah right…”  Something about this story was not adding up, but mostly Stiles just didn’t want to believe the words that were coming out of his father’s mouth.

“Stiles, if you really want to know the details of my life over those first few years, I’ll tell you.”  Mostly it consisted of sleeping on sympathetic friends’ couches, working three or more jobs at any given time, and sobbing on the phone with her dad as he gave her updates on her mother’s deteriorating condition.  “But I don’t think that’s what’s really bothering you.”

“You’re damn right, that’s not what’s bothering me.”  It made sense, what they were saying, and it was a good reason for leaving.  A damn good one.  But that didn’t change the fact that she left – the person he looked up to, the person who was his best friend and partner in crime that he loved with all his heart, had _left_ him without explanation at the hardest time in his life and shattered his whole innocent little kid world.  “See, you left because dad needed you.  Because mom needed you.  And I get it, I think.  I do.  But you know what?  I needed you too.”

“Stiles–“

“No.”  Stiles was on the verge of crying and he would not give her the satisfaction.  “You’ve had 10 years to try and make this right, and you didn’t.  We both made our choices.  Now we just need to move on.”

Stiles stormed out of the house, fully expecting his father to trudge out after him and drag his insolent ass back inside to apologize.  He should have done so himself, but he’d spent over half his life hating the one person who, it turned out, had given him the one thing in his past he treasured more than anything else – more time with his mom.

It was difficult to just let that anger go.  It had helped shape his entire sense of self – for better in some ways, for worse in others – and he wasn’t entirely sure who he would be without it.  But he owed it to himself, to his dad and Ellie, and especially to his mom, to try and figure that out.

Stiles had already spun around and begun marching back up the sidewalk when a movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention.  He paused, scanning the shadows and listening intently for anything bigger than the errant squirrel scurrying up a tree to his left.

He had half a second’s notice before his legs were swept out from under him and he fell backwards onto the concrete, hard.  The rough surface had easily scratched away a large swath of skin on his arm and his tailbone was definitely bruised, but all that was secondary to the darkness clouding his vision and the pounding in his head that seemed to take him in and out of consciousness with every violent thump of his heart.

Stiles rolled and got his knees under him, but received a kick to his ribs that had his stomach and lungs and all manner of organs that he wasn’t quite sure of their function other than that they were all spasming and burning and aching at the moment.

Despite the protests of his shaking body, Stiles tried to inchworm himself away from his attackers, only to receive another blow, this time to his face, and he was pretty sure he was going into shock because he heard more than felt the crack that was probably his nose breaking.

“Is this him?” someone asked, though to Stiles it sounded like the voices were coming from underwater.

A wave of heat washed over Stiles’ face as a body leaned over him and inhaled deeply.  “Certainly smells like him.  Or… one of them, at least.  I don’t know, all these cheap, disgraceful packs smell the same to me.”  Stiles groaned and attempted to fight back or run away or even just sit up to get a look at the, what he deduced were, werewolves probably about to kill him.  “Shh, don’t struggle little weakling.  There’s no need to be afraid.”

“Stop talking to it – we need to get out of here.”

“W-what—?” Stiles struggled to ask.  He was able to focus enough to see a predatory face with a deep scar down the center staring down at him.  Smiling.

“So fragile.  Just one little bump to the head and you can barely keep your eyes open.”  The wolf tsk-ed sadly and traced a finger from Stiles’ temple and down his jaw.  It came back red.  “But don’t worry.  I’m actually giving you a gift.”

“Y-you need to… work on your—“ Stiles gasped and coughed, wet and sticky, “wrapping skills.”

“Cute.  Let’s see how many witty comebacks you have when the full moon has you howling in pain, pup.”

Stiles didn’t have time to ask what they meant by that before something sharp bit into his flesh and his brain finally plunged him into blissful, numb darkness. 

If he had been in his right mind, it might have registered that that ‘something sharp’ was a set of fangs.


End file.
